Only Bones
by Choralreif
Summary: Typical, friendly bickering between our favorite crime-solving team Disclaimer: I do not own the sexiest man alive. Because owning people is slavery. And slavery is illegal
1. Chapter 1

"Booth is an incredibly gifted FBI agent," Brennan insisted, smiling as he turned to glance at her. "I know I am always in good hands."

"Yes, Dr. Brennan, but I must insist that in the wake of you father's arrest, we are concerned about some of your...personal motivations."

"Are you saying Bones can't be trusted?" Booth inquired aggressively. "This is the woman who actually tried to arrest him herself."

"Booth, it's okay," Brennan soothed. She turned toward Officer Polk. "Obviously, there's a conflict of interest. As long as your precautionary measures do not conflict with my work at the Jeffersonian, and my relationship with Agent Booth, I see no reason why these terms should be considered strenuous at any measure."

Officer Polk nodded, and left Booth and Brennan to their own devices.

"Bones, are you kidding? They're being totally unreasonable!"

"Booth, it's not unreasonable to ask witnesses to use discretion. _You _do the very same any time we're working a case."

"But that's different, Bones. That's you and me, doing our thing, solving murders. This guy's just doing what some guy in a suit told him."

"You wear a suit, though of course your cocky belt buckle and striped socks significantly detract from the air of professionalism you're meant to project."

"Hey. Don't knock the socks," Booth insisted, semi-defensive, but mostly kidding.

"Maybe I'll wear striped socks tomorrow," Brennan mused.

"Hey!" Booth complained. "That's my thing."

"So I'll know exactly where to find some," she grinned, taking up her bag and moving over to the body she was supposed to be examining, before Officer Polk had interrupted.

"Sweets would probably say I was lashing out against my box," Brennan asserted.

"Well, we already know that's what I do."

"Right, to replace your degenerative gambling addiction," Brennan agreed, nonplussed.

"Gee, thanks, Bones," Booth replied sarcastically.

"What?" she asked, wide-eyed. "It's an anthropological principle that addictive personalities will find other outlets."

"So the druggies who blame their other crimes on being high are 'lashing out'?"

"Well, obviously halucinogens of any kind have an unhealthy impact on the neurological system, but you'd have to ask Sweets about that particular discipline."

Booth sighed, giving up on this particular discussion, and trying to figure out how they'd gone from talking about Max to halucinogenic drugs. _Only Bones, _he thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Booth sighed, bringing up the rear as Brennan examined the body.

"Victim is female, 25-28 years old. There is severe damage to the victim's clavicle, as well as shattering of the C7 and L1 vertebrae."

"Ok, Bones, in people-speak."

"Well, most logically she was hit from behind in a concentrated, powerful blow near her neck. I can't accurately assume what kind of weapon did this damage, but I'm sure Angela will be able to take some molds and use a process of elimination."

"Alright, well let's get this stuff on over to the squint squad, and you and I are late for our appointment with Sweets."

Booth motioned to his FBI forensic backup, which they rarely utilized save for transporting bodies to the Jeffersonian. Who needed them, when Bones was here?

At Sweets's office, the two settled into their chairs across from an obviously flustered Sweets.

"Alright, Sweets, what are you afraid to tell us?" Booth asked.

"Oh, no, it's nothing about you at all."

"So you are not devoting your undivided attention to this incredibly important session with Bones and me?" Booth inquired, his voice ripe with playful sarcasm.

Brennan shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Booth eyed her, but, at a loss for a reason, resumed his previous stance.

"What's eating you, Sweets?" He smiled at his own joke, glancing over at Brennan, who showed no reaction. Denied, he looked back at Sweets, who was glancing out his window into the hallway.

"Ok, seriously, what's wrong?"

"A certain Officer Polk came to talk to me about my father's case today at a crime scene," Brennan said.

"Bones!"

"What? No one was saying anything?"

Booth rolled his eyes and looked to Sweets for his schpeel. There was a reason he and Brennan didn't usually assert information.

"How's Parker?" Sweets asked, attempting to put on his "doctor" face.

"Parker? He's Parker. He's my kid, so unless you want to hear all about his many accomplishments in the worlds of tee-ball and school, you should probably skip this question."

"Actually, I would like to hear about Parker as well," Brennan inserted. "You haven't brought him up in at least two days."

"Bones, you went to dinner with us two days ago. He talked your ear off. I was sparing you."

"Why would you need to spare me from a Booth? I deal with you every day. He's like a less-concentrated you. Sometimes I think he'd be easier to handle."

"Sweets, are you hearing this?" Booth asked, deciding Sweets had been allowed to keep silent for too long.

"Dr. Brennan, you're a woman," said Sweets.

"Yes, that would be an accurate statement, though I'm not sure I understand its relevance."

"When women get mad..."

"This is about a woman. I knew it. It's always about the woman. Don't I always tell you that, Bones?"

"Yes, Booth, you do. Though, up to this point, I'm not sure I believed you."

"You're supposed to believe everything I say."

"But look at the evidence. When are _your _actions motivated by a woman?"

This time Sweets's face did go all "doctor-y," but Booth failed to notice.

"Dr. Sweets, perhaps you shouldn't take this woman's anger too personally."

"How can I not take it personally?"

"There are a number of reasons a woman may lash out unnecessarily. Booth may attribute it to hormones, or maybe even menstrual cramps."

"That's it. I'm done. Good luck with your lady issues, Sweets," Booth said as he stepped out the door. "Bones, you can come with me if and only if you promise not to bring - that up again."

"Anthropologically speaking - "

"That'll do."


	3. Chapter 3

"So, what do you say, Bones? Wanna go to lunch?"

"Well, I really should get back to the lab to analyze those remains."

"Oh, come on Bones," Booth whined. "Let Hodgins do his dirt and bug and conspiracy theories wrap first. They'll still be there when we're done."

"Fine, if you want to tell him," she conceded, a smiling look on her face.

Booth's face fell. He pulled it back up into a determined set, and took out his phone.

"Dr. Jack Hodgins," he answered.

"Yeah, I need you to run the particulate evidence on that body that's coming in."

"Of course, your royal boss-ness," Hodgins replied.

"Cam is your boss, not me. I'm just letting you know," Booth said with an annoyed look on his face. Bones glanced at him with raised eyebrows. "Yeah, alright, bye." Booth hung up.

"What? You knew what you were getting yourself into."

"Yeah, I should have just taken you to lunch by force."

"You couldn't take me by force if you wanted to."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yes. First of all, your chivalric code strongly discourages forcing a lady to do something she doesn't want to do."

"Lady," Booth scoffed, then retreated at her gaze. "Kidding, geez Bones. So are we going to lunch, or what?"

"You have satisfactorily met the terms of our agreement," she nodded.

"Great. And I'm getting you some pie."

"Chivalric code, Booth."

"Not if I know what's good for you better than you know yourself," he smiled.


End file.
